The Sick Days
by IvoryRose888
Summary: Soul rarely gets sick, but on the off chance that he does, it's not like it's anything Maka can't handle...right? (SoulxMaka sicky fluff) ((Also hoping to turn this one into a series of one-shots about what happens in that little apartment when weapon and meister feel under the weather. The support I've gotten is awesome, thanks so much!))


"Death…I always knew Stein was strong, but…he's a real monster…" The exhausted meister grumbled to herself as she dragged herself up the stairwell, toward her apartment. After a long day of studying and training, all Maka Albarn wanted to do was plop down on her sofa and read a good book. Maybe she'd finally open that package her papa had sent her for her birthday last year…8 days late. Or maybe she'd rather shove her hand into a blender than give in to her father's pathetic whining, she thought to herself as she shoved the thick wood of the door aside. Either way… 

"Soul?" She called out, surprised he didn't grunt something about her being late as soon as she stepped through the door. "Soul...?" Any plans for her evening were immediately obliterated when she turned the corner into the open living area. Her partner was curled into a ball on the sofa, and his entire body was trembling with such force that their couch was literally moving. 

"Soul!" Maka half-cried as she dropped her bag and hastened to him, immediately tossing aside her fatigue. Soul very rarely got sick. In the three years they'd been partners, he had only gotten sick once, but that one time was a severe case of the stomach flu that landed him a two week's stay in the Death City General Hospital. Despite the outer brawn that Soul's body possessed, his internal defense system had nearly lost the battle with the vicious disease. It had been the second most trying time of their partnership, and now any time Soul even looked like he might gag or sneeze or sniffle, Maka's heart stalled. 

"Soul," she started as she fell to her knees before her ailing comrade. "What's wrong? Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed as she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're burning up!" 

"B-B-But w-why a-am I sh-sh-shaking?" The weapon gasped out in a light, strained voice right before breaking into a fit of coughing. 

"It's your internal defense system trying to cool you down by convincing your body that it's cold. The tremors and sweating are supposed to help somehow…" She informed him, her eyes wandering over the droplets of perspiration lining Soul's features. Her brows creased with worry, but she rapidly rose from the floor and strode to his room, returning with a light sheet that she spread over him. "This might help a little bit, if nothing more than making you comfortable." She mused to herself more than to him. 

Bending to his level once again, Maka looked into Soul's face and noted his fluttering eyelids. "Are you tired? Really tired?" She asked. He merely nodded in reply, allowing his eyes to fall closed before she could ask him another question. 

"Soul!" Maka snapped, trying to maintain herself. "You have to try to stay awake. I have to ask you a few questions to see if I can figure out what's wrong, okay?" She thought back, remembering her father in a similar state once. "Okay, Soul, are you with me?" A soft nod. "Alright. How does your body feel? Does it feel stiff and achy?" A nod. "Is your nose runny?" A shake of the head. "Does your head hurt?" A quick nod, accompanied by a grimace. "Are you nauseous? Have you thrown up today?" 

"A-A little…" He whispered airily. "But no, I didn't….puke today…" 

"Hmmm." Maka mused to herself. "It sounds like you have a case of the flu. You're much better off than my papa was…" She clenched her jaw as the memory of nursing her vomiting father back to health shot through her mind. "You're not hungry at all, are you?" The corner of her lips quirked a bit when he shook his head, and she declared more than asked, "Well, I'll make you some Jasmine tea, then. Is that alright? Something to help you feel a bit better." 

A light smile of approval spread across Soul's lips. As Maka turned to go to the kitchen, though, the boy suddenly bolted upright and shakily dashed from the room, his palm cupped across his mouth. "Oh no…" Maka moaned, and she carefully followed him into the bathroom, kneeling behind him and gently rubbing his back as he retched into the porcelain bowl. This situation was all too familiar to her, though last time they had been kneeling on the sterilized floor of the hospital, constantly under the surveillance of orderlies who refused to believe that Maka was immune to the illness. 

Once the flood finally passed, the weapon wearily got to his feet and wiped the corner of his mouth, grinning sheepishly at his meister's anxious features. "I think I'm alrigh-" His knees suddenly gave out from beneath him, and he would've toppled to the floor if Maka hadn't reacted quickly enough, grabbing him under the arms as she tried to pulled him back up. Once he came to himself, he managed to straighten up as Maka guided his arm around her shoulders. A bit reluctantly, he leaned on her as they slowly inched from the bathroom and back to the plush scarlet cushions of their couch. 

After he was settled, he looked up at her, hot embarrassment flaming in his cheeks, and muttered, "I think I feel well enough for that tea now…" 

Gently smiling down at him, Maka nodded and swiftly departed to the kitchen, rapidly preparing the drink for her partner. Once the sweet beverage was warm enough, Maka returned to the living room, only to find that Soul had managed to doze off in the few minutes she was gone. Smiling to herself, she crossed to the couch and carefully set the mug on the glass coffee table, placing herself at the end of the sofa. After a little while, she heard Soul groan and roll over, his bloodshot eyes snapping open as his pale hands flew to his temples. He mumbled and moaned, curling into a ball as pain reverberated within his skull. 

Maka frowned and tapped his foot, motioning for him to come to her. Even though he shot her a hateful glance, he complied. Once his head was in her lap, she carefully began massaging his temples and scalp, running her slender fingers over the surface of his sickly-pale skin in gentle circles. After a while, his body relaxed into the cushions and she knew he was finally asleep again. Tenderly, she began to slide her fingers through his ivory hair, stroking the wild locks as her partner's scarred chest rose and fell in uneasy slumber.


End file.
